Nordquist Blog

Occasionally, I’m asked to help a friend with a computer problem. Or the friend of a friend. Or just random people who come across my blog.

But I don’t mind it. I enjoy working through problems, and I always learn something new.

When I worked at one of the first internet service providers in Seattle, I got to know a guy who had endless problems with his computers. This was back in the days of dial-up internet, and he could not get any of his new Windows 95 computers online.

After trying to walk him through the problems over the phone he asked, “Could I hire you to come to my home and fix all my computers?”

I stalled.

Up until this time, I’d only made one house call, and that was to a woman who was the friend of a friend. I spent more time looking for her home than I did repairing her computer. In fact, I spent so little time at her home that I refused to take any money. I felt good about myself and the service I rendered until I found five twenty dollar bills shoved into my coat pocket a few days later.

I eventually decided I could use the money and told this man I’d be willing to come to his home. He was happy and asked, “What’s your rate?”

What is my rate? I’d never thought of it in those terms. That makes it sound like a job. Computers were more a hobby, and it felt strange to ask people who needed help for money. He could sense my hesitation.

Finally, I told him, “Let’s see if I can fix your problems before I take anything from you.”

He gave me his address and directions to his home on Mercer Island. I’d never been to Mercer Island which is one of the most expensive zip codes in the US. All I knew about Mercer Island was that it was home to Paul Allen, who hung out with Bill Gates before they started Microsoft. A coworker told me that it wasn’t uncommon to see Allen’s helicopter taking off or landing on the island.

That weekend, I left my one-bedroom apartment on Capitol Hill and drove over Interstate 90 to Mercer Island. The island is flush with vegetation which makes it difficult for outsiders to find their way around. I eventually found the address I was looking for, but all I could see what a giant gate. Where was the house?

I noticed an intercom near the the gate, and was told to pull my car through where I’d be greeted and told where to park my car.

By now, I’m thinking, “What did am getting myself into?” followed by “Why does someone need to show me where to park my car?”

I didn’t have to drive far to realize why I’d need someone to show me where to park because the first thing I noticed was a lineup of red and yellow Ferraris in the driveway. Surely, he didn’t want me to attempt to parallel park my VW Passat between his Italian beauties. 

We spent more time talking cars than I did fixing his computers which didn’t need a lot of work. I spent at least four hours at his home. He explained that he was the owner of luxury car dealership in Seattle that focused on collectable autos. He was incredibly kind and accommodated my numerous questions about his cars.

I don’t recall much of that conversation because I was in a giddy daze.

I do recall telling him I knew more about German cars because I’d lived there for a few years. And then he said something that’s stuck with me for nearly fifteen years:

“The Germans make solid machines. But the Italians create passion! Whatever you do in life, do it with passion”

I left his home that night with a check made out for far more than I deserved.

But it was his advice and friendship that night that enriched my life.

The room was dark was except the white glow emanating from my computer monitors. It was just enough for me to notice that Luca had snuck downstairs and curled up in Kim’s computer chair.

She watched me type away for a few minutes.

Her brothers and sister were already in bed. It was late. She should have been in bed too. But I sensed she wanted some company.

I removed my headphones, closed Firefox and turned my chair towards her. She jumped off her chair and onto my lap.

“Tell me what you did tonight with the babysitter”, I said. 

“Nothing"

Maybe she doesn’t want to talk.

She put her head on my chest while I tickled her back. I know she loves that. She knows I know she loves that. But I ask how she likes it anyway.

“Perfect”, she says.

I can barely hear Luca’s breathing over the rain smacking against the roof and fence. She has her arms wrapped around my neck. I feel like I’m wearing a bib made of a little girl in purple pajamas.

I swivel my chair back and forth assuming she’ll fall asleep.

I think back to this afternoon when the sun made a rare appearance for a few hours. While the other kids were riding bikes and jumping rope, Luca had situated two umbrellas off the back of a beach chair to keep the sun out of her eyes as she read a book.

I pulled up a chair next to her to watch her read yet careful not to disturb. She didn’t say much to me then. And she doesn’t say much now.

Sometimes it’s enough to listen to the rain together.

The rain was coming down at a pace that didn’t match my wipers: Too much for intermittent but not enough for the slowest setting.

But that didn’t bother me today because having to flip the stalk every few seconds kept me alert during my drive up the mountain.

Once I get out of Redmond I can relax. I make my way through Bellevue before merging onto I90 that takes me up Snoqualmie canyon before jumping on Highway 18. The highway cuts a swath through the hills of Issaquah before dropping into Auburn valley.

The last twenty minutes are the best part of the trip. I zip down hills and around corners through a majestic forest marred only by this two lane highway. Traffic is nearly non-existent, and I suspect a number of enthusiasts choose this route rather than continue down 405 to 167. 

But something didn’t feel right.

My day was filled with interruptions. That’s part of my job, and normally I don’t mind. But today it caught up with me. Finally, near 4 pm I was able to complete the two tasks I had to finish today. Two tasks in eight hours?

I flipped on Last.FM hoping some music would cheer me up before I arrived home, and this is what I heard from the Acid House Kings:

I’ve been heading home
I’ve been going wrong
It’s been this way for so long…

So, come on and be my light
Come on and lead the way
And people speak I hear them saying
You won’t last another day…

Maybe it’s the blah of the new year after the holidays. Or the kids getting back into school after a few weeks off. I should have taken more time off over the holidays because I feel burned out and in need of a vacation. It’s dark when I leave the house. It’s darker when I return home. Feels like life is passing me by.

But this song cheers me up. I’m headed home to my family. I know my dog will be the first to greet me, followed by Kai who will grab my leg and lead me to the kid’s computer where he’ll beg for Dora the Explorer on Netflix.

As much as I appreciate Kim having dinner ready when I arrive home, I was happy to find her resting on the couch with the kids climbing all over her.

I will “last another day”.

Luca reached her arms towards me like she does each night. She’s our oldest child but the only one who will not go down unless mom and dad tuck her into bed each evening.

Just a few feet below Luca on the bottom bunk was Anna. She doesn’t have the same bedtime demands. In fact, I wouldn’t have known she was there had I not kneeled down next to her.

I noticed her body faced the wall. Arms at her side. Not a “goodnight” to be heard.

Was she still awake? Was she so tired she jumped in bed on her own? Did she want to be left alone?

Kim sat on the hallway floor reading a book aloud. That way both the girls and Lincoln could hear the story. I decided to lay down next to Anna.

I put my head on the same pillow. Although we had little light, it only took a few seconds of looking into her eyes that I could tell something was wrong.

Could it have been the time at church today when I asked her to sit at the end of the bench? Was it the time Lincoln and Luca yelled at her because she wasn’t able to save them in a game of Super Mario Brothers? Did she feel left out of the conversation on tonight’s drive around town?

I don’t know the reason. But my instincts tell me something is not right with my daughter.

I couldn’t think of what say. I’ve learned that it’s best to keep quiet during these times instead of forcing meaningless small talk.

I brushed the hair out of Anna’s eyes and tickled her back. Still no reaction. At least she knows I’m here, I told myself.

As I was about to kiss her goodnight, Lincoln yelled out, “I have a wedgie!” to which mom replied, “Well, I’m not getting it out”.

Anna giggled for a bit before returning her head to the same spot on the pillow.

Yes, at least she knows I’m here.

Luca invited me to spend the afternoon with her class on a field trip to the White River Valley Museum this afternoon.

The two 3rd grade classes broke up into four groups, and we made our way around the exhibits with the help of volunteers. We listened to many stories about the Native American tribe that lives in our area: The Muckleshoot Tribe.

Our volunteer explained to the children how the tribe used cedar in nearly everything they created. Not only is cedar strong but it’s waterproof. I didn’t realize they often wore clothing made of cedar like this women who is searching for clams.

We watched a short film of a father and son removing strips of cedar from a very large tree. The father mentioned how he wanted to pass on this tribal tradition to his son while he was still alive. The son carefully followed his father’s instructions. Their mutual respect was apparent.

The filmmaker cut to the father who explain he had other children, but had taken the time to only show this son how to harvest cedar in this manner.

And then he said something that’s stuck with me all day.

I do not plan to teach each of my children all the traditions of the tribe. I will teach one or two traditions to each. If I taught all of them everything, they would not learn to rely on each other. When I’m gone, I want them to bond and work together.

At first this sounded strange. But I like it the more I think about it.

I tend to teach my kids the same skills. Sure, one may gravitate towards music while another spends more time playing soccer. But we tend to raise generalists who are self-sufficient. We expect our children to eventually go their own way. The idea of relying on a sibling for a basic need does not fit into our culture.

I’ve wondered how this might translate into teams at work. I’ve worked in groups where everyone has similar skills and others where each person possessed a specialized set of skills. The group I currently manage trends towards the former.

Even though it may go against the grain, I believe this wise father is on to something.

I didn’t know that Seth Godin had released a new book called “Linchpin: Are You Indispensible?” until I read his blog this morning. I found it on Amazon but am going to wait until it comes to iTunes as an audiobook.

While browsing the Huffington Post tonight I came across an article Godin wrote called “Is Control the Answer”.  A few passages struck a chord:

I don’t think it’s an accident that corporations and governments have similar structures.

CEOs are a lot like kings and presidents. They’ve got power and perks and deniability. They order people around, pretend to be infallible and are apparently hired to think big thoughts…

But in business, we’re seeing a divergence. Quite suddenly, markets and systems are changing so fast that top down control isn’t the asset it used to be.

…if your business deals in ideas, control will stifle them. If your organization deals with the public, control will inevitably alienate your best customers.

Power in a world without control doesn’t happen just because you’re elected or appointed or have a great title. Now, power comes from connection and leadership and respect. The way you treat people (all of them, even those without apparent authority) comes back to you again and again, which means that our new leaders embrace dignity and respect instead of the traditional trappings of top down organizations.

I especially enjoyed the part about how leadership is gained through respect and how you treat people. Not just in good times but bad.

It’s human nature to route around those who attempt to control our freedom.

I’ve experienced this with my children. The minute I block off an area of the house, my two-year old sets off on a quest to gain access to that area.

As a teen, I had little interest in drinking Coke until my parents banned it from the house. Once I knew they didn’t approve, I bought one every day.

And when the IT head at a company I used to work for banned instant messaging, the tech savvy showed everyone (including marketing and sales) how to use Meebo.

Next time you exert control over someone, it may be useful to consider what reaction you’ve encouraged. Because the reaction might cause more damage than had you left control with the individual.

I need to remember this advice when dealing with those I manage and those I’m responsible for at home.

I don’t remember if I was in first or second grade.

What I do remember is that I was with my friend who lived two houses down from mine. She was a girl and girls were not cool. But she owned the first Schwinn bike I’d seen, and that was very cool. All I had was a puke-yellow skateboard.

As we walked home from school, I remember my friend slowed down and then nearly ran over me while screaming for her mom. I was oblivious to the car that had pulled up next to us.

I turned towards the street to see a gorilla looking at me. What’s a gorilla doing driving down the the street? His head was out the window, and he was growling at me. He never said a word. I stopped walking and just stared at him. He slowed his car but didn’t stop.

When my mom asked me to describe the make and color of his car I drew a blank. All I saw was the gorilla. But now I understood that I hadn’t actually seen a gorilla driving a car; I’d seen a man dressed in a gorilla mask.

And that bummed me out a bit.

I was too young to recognize the potential danger. I didn’t feel threatened at all. I couldn’t wait to tell my dad I’d seen a gorilla cruising down Van Buren Avenue. 

Since having children of my own, I’ve often thought about that hairy but mobile primate. I don’t know what I’d do if my children encountered a such a strange sight. I don’t remember my parents overacting. I don’t recall any meetings with the principal. Imagine the warnings and training we’d bombard our kids with if the same thing happened today.

It took a while to settle my friend down before our parents could remind us again never to accept a ride from strangers.

Or gorillas.

Which of the four brushes do I use?

Do I put water on the brush or leave it dry?

Do I use gel or hairspray?

These are the questions I ask myself as I run a comb through my daughter’s hair this morning.

We are supposed to meet Kim at church in fifteen minutes, and it takes me ten to catch Kai racing around the house.

When I say, “We are going to make it on time!” all I hear is laughter coming from the living room.

Yet, I don’t want to rush it.

Few parents will mention these moments to those considering starting a family. They will gush about watching their son hit for the cycle or their daughter’s perfect technique at the dance recital. No doubt, these are memorable accomplishments that make both child and parent proud.

But raising four children has taught me to appreciate the more mundane moments. Maybe it’s a survival technique.

I’m careful to grab hold of Anna’s hair as I comb through a few snarls. “Are you making me pretty, Dad?”, she asks.

I finished combing her bangs before lifting her up by the waist so she could see herself in the mirror.

She flipped her hair and smiled.

And answered her own question.

I hadn’t removed my jacket or set down my briefcase before Anna came bounding down the stairs. While nearly standing on my shoes, she pleaded with me to come see something she created.

“Let me get settled first,” I said.

I got settled just in time for Luca to call everyone upstairs for dinner. While we ate, Anna reminded me again she had something to show me.

“After I finish eating.”

I wasn’t trying to avoid Anna although I’m sure that’s how she felt because after dinner I ended up in the living room playing with Kai while Luca and Lincoln hit me over the head with a pillow.

“Dad, can I show you something now?”

“Just a minute.”

But a minute never came because there was laundry to fold, a dishes to clean and a two-year old to keep  from using the glue stick as lip balm.

It’s so easy to get distracted. One child needs attention while a dozen other small things get in the way. I tell myself I won’t get sucked down that hole of stuff that doesn’t matter. Yet I do. 

My mom used to say that kids talk when they want to talk. They seldom talk on your terms, and you never know when they will pull up a chair and dive into an honest discussion.

I should have remembered my mom’s words, but I continued to put off Anna under the assumption that, once things settled down, I’d be able to see what she wanted to show me.

The house did eventually settle down. But my mind was off in another direction, and I forgot about Anna’s request. While I sat at the computer this evening, she snuck up behind me with two papers in her hand.

My heart sank.

“Can you staple these papers for me?” she asked.

I noticed one of the papers was an entry to a coloring contest while the other was the artwork she wanted to show me all evening. I tried as best I could to show interest and give her my attention, but it was too late. She came to me to get the papers stapled not to show me the picture she colored.

It was late by the time Luca and Anna crawled into bed. I chatted with Luca before kissing her goodnight. By the time I kneeled down at Anna’s bed she was asleep. I kissed Anna on the forehead knowing I missed an opportunity to connect with her.

I won’t make the same mistake tomorrow.

George Clooney’s character in the film, Up the Air, gives a memorable speech where he asks, “How much does your life weigh?”

I’ve seen the movie twice now, and both times I’ve got lost in thought each time I’ve watched this scene.

How much does my life weigh?

Currently it weighs a lot. I’m responsible for providing life’s basics for six people and one dog. When I write that I can feel the weight. Yet that’s how I set it up. That’s what I was taught. I go to school. Get married. Buy a home and have some children.

Isn’t that how we define success in America? The size of our home and the emblem on our cars. The instruments our children play and the camps and schools they attend. The blueprint for success has already been created. All we have to do is follow it. Yet nobody forced me to follow the blueprint. It was my own doing.

I’m starting to rethink how I define success.

I used to place a lot of value on not only my job title but the prestige that came working for a well-known and respected company. I used to think we had to raise our children in a certain neighborhood among people of our education and economic levels. At times I’ve felt the need to spend more time at work and church taking on more projects. Whoever can complete the largest to-do list was the winner. The busier the better.

But the older I get I see that this way of thinking does not lead to happiness. It focuses on the quantity instead of the quality of life. More is less. A lot less.

I recently came across an interview with former CNN host, Lou Dobbs. He worked at CNN for nearly 30 years and served as the host of Moneyline as well as a corporate executive at CNN. This is a man who graduated from Harvard and earned tens of millions of dollars as a news personality.

Yet when asked to complete the phrase, “I wish…, Dobbs replied “I spent more time with the kids”.

Here’s a guy who had the means to do whatever he wanted. Certainly he could find time to spend with his four children if he so desired. Yet our culture doesn’t place a lot of importance on how much time fathers spend with their children. That’s mom’s job or, more often, the nanny or child care provider’s responsibility.

I hope I never look back on my life and answer that question the same way Dobbs did. That would be a nightmare scenario. Dobbs lives on a 300 acre farm. He has whatever money can buy. Yet what he wishes for something which can’t be bought. No amount of money will bring back the years he could have spent with his children. Who cares how big your house is if it’s empty.

I’m slowly starting to remove things from my life that take away from time I can spend with my children. I’m going to commit myself to fewer projects. I’m going to watch less TV and more time reading or telling stories with my kids. I’m going to call my parents and siblings instead of goofing around on the internet so much. I’m going to look for opportunities to give service. I worked on a friend’s computer for a few hours this month, and I felt great afterwards.

I want more of that in my life.

This past week I did something I wish I had done months before. I turned off email on my iPhone so I would not be tempted to read or reply to it. I had over 30 unread emails when I sat down at my desk this morning. And you know what? I survived. No email is so important that it should pull me away from my family on the weekend.

I’m hoping that as I strip away distractions and activities that they next time I hear Clooney give his speech, I’ll say to myself, “My life weighs less than it did it a month ago”.

Every morning Luca, Lincoln and Anna line up at the door, ready for school. Well, not quite ready. I have to remind Lincoln to put on his shoes. Anna forgets where she last saw her sweater, and Luca searches for her homework.

No matter how early we wake the kids, I feel rushed getting them to school on time. This school year I’ve been dropping the kids off at the elementary school on my way to work. Although it’s only a few minutes, I enjoy this time immensely. It’s a great way to start my day.

All three of them are excited for school. Even giddy. I know it won’t always be this way.

Over the past couple of months I’ve noticed Anna is the last to get out of the car at the school. Luca and Lincoln get out first and could wait for their little sister, who started Kindergarten this year. But they don’t. They jump out and run ahead leaving Anna on her own.

And yet I understand why this happens.

Anna is our most vocal and emotional child. She’s also our most upbeat. She wears her emotions for everyone to see. She likes to dance and twirl around the house. She likes to sing. But mostly, she wants to be around her older brother and sister.

But what really irks Luca and Lincoln is the whistling. Luca nor Lincoln can whistle so it’s doubly annoying to them that Anna has no problem whistling songs to popular Nintendo games.

But it still hurts to see Anna walk alone to class each day. Kim and I have ask Luca and Lincoln to keep an eye on their younger sister. I’ve tried gentle reminders as we approach the school. But so far nothing has worked. I don’t want to force the issue though. I know doing so could worsen the situation.

The rain was coming down hard as I pulled up to the school today. I turned on my windshield wipers as fast as they would go, and it still wasn’t enough. All three kids had backpacks full of homework and a lunch. I expected the same pecking order to prevail as I unlocked the door.

Luca reached over the seat to hug me before she left. Lincoln would rather give me a high five so that’s what we did before he jumped out.

That left Anna.

I looked out my window covered in raindrops to see Luca and Lincoln fling their backpack over their shoulders. “Here we go again”, I thought.

“I love you Anna Lynn”, I said as she reached her arm out to hug me. I straighten her glasses that Luca or Lincoln bumped on the way out. She scooted her legs across the seat before dangling them onto the ground. She struggled to stabilize her backpack before reaching back to close the car door.

The rain was really coming down now. My windows were fogged up to the point where I could not see through them. I wiped the windshield with my sleeve before lowering the driver’s side window.

And that when I saw them.

I assumed Luca and Lincoln had run ahead like they every morning. Instead I saw three kids standing in the rain. Right next to each other. Lincoln was helping Anna with her backpack while Luca fixed her hood so Anna’s hair wouldn’t get drenched.

As they walked along the sidewalk leading to the school,I sat in my car and watched. Eventually they broke off towards their classrooms.

I could only see Anna’s backpack hanging from her shoulders and her tiny feet hitting every puddle. Yet I have no doubt she had a smile painted across her face.

And she was probably whistling.

The kids scurried to locate their shoes. Chances are slim six shoes will be found before Costco closes so I did what any helpful father who promised his kids they could tag along would do:

“Put on the first shoes you find even if they don’t belong to you”

Every time I pull into the Costco parking lot on a Saturday, I tell myself to NEVER visit Costco on a Saturday. And yet I don’t know if I’ve ever stepped foot inside a Costco on a day other than Saturday.

But today I was missing my co-pilot unless you count three kids who view Costco as one big play ground. I haven’t found a parking spot before the comments start pouring in from the backseat.

“Mom never parks this far away”

“I can’t even see the entrance from here”

When I finally locate a spot, I decide to lay down a few ground rules before we leave the car.

“Only one sample per product”

“No sneaking anything into the cart”

“No comparing me to mom”

That last one is a biggie. I don’t know the store layout as well as Kim does. And no, I’m not the most efficient shopper on the planet. I like to take my time in the DVD and book section. I’ll hang out in the vegetable and fruit cooler room on a warm day. Sometimes I’ll go by the TV section and catch a game in progress. Today I chatted up the lady answering questions for ECOS unscented laundry detergent.

Plus, it’s hard to move a giant cart full of groceries with three kids in tow down small aisles on sample Saturday. What’s the rush?

Kim jotted down a small list of items for me to buy. She crossed out a few before I walked out the door. She told me they weren’t essential, but I’ll bet she knew I wouldn’t be able to find them. Probably a good move on her part or I’d still be wandering the aisles searching for Children’s Benadryl.

Here’s my list. Notice how I keep track of what I have in the cart by making a small tear next to the item. How’s that for ingenuity?

I added the four barely legible items in the right corner and then gave up on two of them while in the store. Sorry, Quicken.

I’d call the trip a success based on my past Costco excursions. I couldn’t find the “dark hot chocolate”, but came up with an acceptable excuse on the fly: it’s a season item. Kim fell for it.

The kid’s dinosaur vitamins gave me trouble. I located the bears, Flintstone and princess variety before Luca found the bottle with two smiling dinosaurs on the front. I guess even the most fearsome velociraptor needs his daily dose of Riboflavin and Beta Carotene in order to stay active and healthy.

They look so much like candy that I might try a couple tonight.

Once we’d checked every item off the list, we stood in line behind buying a cartful of hotdogs and buns. The kids thought that was funny. This is when they get antsy. But today they were kept busy by trying to guess how much the groceries would cost.

“I’m trying to keep the total around $200 today”, I told them.

Luca grabbed the case of black beans and put it on the conveyor belt. Anna grabbed the Pirates Booty while Lincoln tried to lift the can of applesauce onto the belt.

We’re not a well-oiled machine of productivity, but I don’t care. The kids want to help, and the only item that ended up on the floor was the bag of bagels. No harm, no foul.

As we walked to the car Luca asked how much I spent. I handed her the receipt which she held out in front of her with two hands. She scanned the list from top to bottom. Finally she yelled:

“One hundred and ninety four dollars! That’s pretty good, dad! You guessed $200!”

I’ll bet mom would have guessed $198.

Two of my favorite blogs are Seth Godin and Signal vs. Noise. They often share ideas that have helped me become a better manager.

Recently each of them covered topics which caught my attention.

Godin says the secret to creativity is curiosity. In regards to hiring he says:

Same thing is true for most of the people we hire. We’d like them to follow instructions, not ask questions, not question the status quo.

Yet, without "why?" there can be no, "here’s how to make it better."

It’s good to have worker bees. Every company needs them. People who show up at 8 and leave at 5 everyday. They do the job they are asked. Yet they are consistent and stable employees who complete tasks.

I once had a coworker who fit this description. She left at 5 pm no matter what was going on in the office. If she had to walk out in the middle of a meeting then so be it. She logged off email at 5pm and didn’t look at her inbox till 8 am the next morning. She also turned off her cell phone. She was vigilant in protecting her time outside of work.

She checked off all the boxes one would look for when hiring a new employee. Yet she possessed little passion for the industry or our products. She didn’t “ask why” because that answer was of no interest to her.  The job was a paycheck. Nothing more.

The flip side is the employee who challenges, asks why, and looks for ways to improve the company. In my experience, this is the more difficult employee to manage. But when done properly, the benefits outweigh the occasional hassle. This employee challenges the status quo. He’s full of ideas and isn’t bashful about sharing them. He wakes up 3 am with an idea and shoots off an email because he can’t wait until the next morning.

Some businesses need both types. But I know which one I’d rather manage. Especially if my business relies on innovation and creativity to grow.

The other post that caught my attention came from Matt at the 37 Signals blog. He writes about how some companies use control. He suggests that tighter controls may have unintended consequences:

But “control” is a tricky thing. The tighter the reins, the more you create an environment of distrust. An us vs. them mentality takes hold. And that’s when people start trying to game the system.

For the most part, the companies I’ve worked for were able to find the right balance. I worked for two small companies that provided no control which doesn’t work well either.

Matt goes on to quote Shunryu Suzuki:

The best way to control people is to encourage them to be mischievous. Then they will be in control in its wider sense. To give your sheep or cow a large, spacious meadow is the way to control him. So it is with people: first let them do what they want, and watch them. This is the best policy. To ignore them is not good; that is the worst policy. The second worst is trying to control them. The best one is to watch them, just to watch them, without trying to control them.

I’m constantly trying to balance control in regards to those I manage. One must have control over some aspects of work. Time reports and expenses come to mind. But work schedule and freedom to figure out the best way to solve problems are two items where relinquishing some control can bring substantial benefits.

Link to Seth Godin

Link to Signal vs. Noise

I’ve been hesitant to write about the topic of religion for a number of reasons, although it’s important to me. Maybe I haven’t found the right tone yet. Or maybe I’m still working through a number of questions myself and don’t want to draw conclusions here on my blog only to change my mind later.

I was raised a Mormon in Ogden, Utah. My mother grew up in a strict Mormon home. My father did not. But once they married, they were loyal members of this dominant religion in Utah.

The only time I did not attend church for three hours each Sunday morning was when I was sick. I may have faked an illness when church overlapped with a Steelers game, but most weeks I was there in a light blue suit and clip on tie passing the bread and water as young priesthood holder.

I assumed everyone was a Mormon until I was well into my teens. Utah is one of the few places that could happen. It was a big deal to my friends and family when I asked a Catholic girl to a school dance. I don’t believe we ever talked about religion, and it’s probably for the better.

It wasn’t until I served as a missionary in Germany that I become acquainted with other religions. There certainly wasn’t a shortage of people ready to tell me how foolish I was to belong to such a strange and strict religion. I learned one way to diffuse their attacks was to ask them about their own beliefs. The more I listened, the more they opened up to me. Over time, I learned about the Catholics, Protestants, Jehovah Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists and many others. Most were Christian, but some were not. I remember one man called himself a naturalist. He believed God was “in the trees and the leaves”. They didn’t teach us how to respond to such a person at the Mission Training Center in Provo, Utah.

The reason I refer back to my upbringing is because I now realize my eyes and mind were closed until I went to Germany. Until that time, I only discussed religious topics that confirmed what I already believed. None of my friends challenged me because they all possessed the same beliefs I did.

And I wonder if that’s what best for my kids.

Isn’t it a bit arrogant to assume that what’s best for me is also what’s best for my children?

We live in Seattle where my kids are exposed to a diverse group of children at school. Hopefully lead to more discussions among their friends, and they will see that many good people have beliefs that differ from their own. In Utah, I was able to select friends who attended the same church I did. If my children were to do that, they’d have one or two friends total.

I can’t help but see myself in my son each week at church. He attends church because we expect him to attend with our family. He’s respectful and reverent. He even occasionally sings. But much of the time, he props his chin up, crosses his legs and stares off into space. I can certainly relate because I did that every week as a kid.

I hope my children find the same peace and joy I’ve found by belonging to my faith. Most parents would feel the same way. I want them to experience my religion without having it shoved down their throats. I’m trying to share my experiences with them, but give them the leeway to find their own way. I believe parents who are militant about their beliefs find that level of control only works up to a certain age. Eventually, the child will rebel and take off in the opposite direction. I don’t want that.

My views on religion continue to be a work in progress. When I returned from my mission where I had to wear a suit and tie seven days a week, I needed a break from it all. Living something so intensely for two years extracted a toll on my system. I’m constantly searching for balance. I was religious for two years but was I spiritual? I’m still asking myself that question after twenty years.

And like Lincoln, I occasionally stare off into space during church meetings. That’s when I do some of my most productive thinking.

Trying to make sense of this mixed up world.